


Another Place, Another Time

by Carrion_CarryOn



Series: Another Place, Another Time [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Beginnings, Betrayal, Eventual Relationships, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, How Do I Tag, Magic, Magic-Users, Monsters, Plot, Some Humor, Weird Biology, Weirdness, some horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21663379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrion_CarryOn/pseuds/Carrion_CarryOn
Summary: What's there to do when you are abruptly transported to a different world? Find your way back, of course.Oren Wiesel's journey through Somewhere with the friends (and enemies) he makes along the way.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Series: Another Place, Another Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561762





	1. Where Am I?

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone has a purpose in life. Some know it by heart. Others find it in the nick of time. Still, there are those that become lost, wandering out there, somewhere.

It wasn't strange to miss home, especially when so far away from it. Homesickness could be a real problem, affecting the sternest warriors or the most cowardly of heart. Like other feelings and sicknesses, it ranged in intensity from person to person. When the weather was bleak, rain pouring from the grey clouds that blocked the sky, biting wind that slashed through the trees, it was hard _not_ to feel afraid, sad, lonely, homesick. The ground was soggy and puddles were deceiving. Already he’d sunk his feet into three puddles that had nearly swallowed his whole leg. Trying to find somewhere to rest for the night seemed impossible. It felt past midnight, anyhow. Almost time for the sun to rise.

Oren Wiesel normally wasn’t one for wandering about in the rain. The orange hoodie he wore was ineffective at this point, he could already feel a chill settling into his bones. Even the mask he wore, covering the lower half of his face, was of no use. He grumbled unhappy things as he slogged through the mud. It mainly had to do with cursing the horrid downpour. Hope seemed to have abandoned him, along with everything else. He had no idea where he was.

Morning was slow in coming. Why was that? Did the sun just enjoy tormenting him, too? He shook his head. What a ridiculous idea.

He sat down on a fallen log, letting his head fall into his hands, sighing heavily. Everything felt wet and gross and just miserable. He felt heavy and tired – miserable. Where was home? Where was _he_? So many questions with no one to ask.

A sudden rustle through the brush caused the young man to tense. Just an animal? That would be normal, right? Animals live in woods. But it was strange that he hadn’t seen nor heard from anything this long time. Two eyes popped out of the bush and Oren gasped this time. Said eyes, which he noticed were on two thin stalks, were slowly followed by a lithe, scaly body. There were six limbs in total, four touching the ground with the other two clutching at its chest, as if to keep them away. It stalked forward cautiously, weaving from side to side, though its eyes remained completely still. Sinuous movements devolved into jerky head bobs the closer it came.

“What?” Oren squeaked. The eyes finally blinked. No other reaction.

Oren wondered if it was dangerous. It possessed scales – granted, _pink_ ones – so did that mean it was a lizard? Did the bright coloring mean it was poisonous? Venomous? Maybe that’s why it was confident enough to approach him?

“What?” he repeated, his voice muffled by the mask he wore.

The strange creature blinked again and started around the long, behind him. _That_ wasn’t happening. Oren turned, still sitting, and the thing darted away into the bush. Not two seconds passed and it reappeared at his side, staring again. It circled over and over, he turned with it, maintaining eye contact. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“What are you looking at? Never seen a human before? Is that it? What even _are_ you?”

Of course, it did not answer. Oren frowned at it; he considered jumping at it. Then again, what if it thought it best to attack him in kind?

“Look, weird little animal, I am tired, hungry and wet.”

It blinked as though to say ‘what do you expect _me_ to do about it?’

His brow furrowed. “Why am I even bothering to talk to you? You could be dangerous for all I know… You got any way out of this forest?”

He could be going crazy – after all, he’d been walking for at least two weeks – but it almost… nodded? Then it began a lazy, meandering walk back towards the undergrowth, not bothering to check if he was following. Oren, after reasoning he didn’t have any better ideas, followed. It _did_ look back when he started after it, eyes blinking. He paused, waited for it to resume its walk, then paused again. It kept glancing back.

Following the strange lizard-thing for hours proved nothing like what he’d expected. It was, for one thing, uneventful. Over hills and under great trees spanning the sky it led him, past briar patches and stone paths in rivers. Occasionally it looked back at him again. He didn’t like how emotionless those eyes were. His nerves increased until the point he twitched every time the thing darted its gaze back to him. Oren ran a hand through his short, ratty brown hair upon the fifteenth or sixteenth glance.

“Why are you doing that? Making sure I follow?”

No answer, only more skittering.

They walked and walked until they reached foothills. The peaks of mountains loomed over them high in the sky. There were thick, angry looking clouds blocking most of the rocky bodies from view. Not more rain… The lizard paused for only a minute, then continued onward. Did it know where it was going?

“Of course not. I’ve followed some weird, mutated animal over kingdom-wooded-come, why not make that some mountains, too?”

It made a noise – something of a screech and chirp; the first thing he’d ever heard from it. Naturally, the sound meant nothing to him. Oren dashed to follow it as the beast made a sudden bolt for the woods. It leapt onto a rock, his head, then launched itself into a branch high over-head.

“Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding,” he grumbled.

Oren grabbed a lower branch to begin the climb. He progressed at a painstakingly slow pace… until he heard growling. That did not bode well. Without glancing back or looking down, Oren urged his body higher. He wasn’t as fit as he’d have liked – one thing to change when he got home. The next branch appeared to taunt him, swaying just out of reach in the wind. Then the growling increased in pitch and Oren managed to haul himself further up. Soon the branches grew too thin and rickety to be safely traversed for a human.

“Wait! Hold on, I can’t reach any further!”

It stared at him.

“Well it’s not my fault nature made me different!”

The lizard crawled almost to the end of its branch and leapt to an adjacent tree. Oren groaned and carefully shimmied his way forward until the wood protested beneath his weight. It wouldn’t be good to look down now. The last thing he wanted, or needed, was to get scared, fall, and break his fat head. Like an egg on the ground. Splat. Not helpful; the imagery was not helping.

It was staring at him again.

Oren said, “Look, I know you’re not talking or anything, but I would really appreciate it if you didn’t stare. At least for a minute while I work on getting from here to there without killing myself. Please.”

It stopped staring.

He huffed in satisfaction at the new development… until he noticed its gaze was now pointed earth-ward. Down there, all the way down, towards the forest floor. Since when was the leaf litter black and orange? Emotionless eyes watched him, leering, not dissimilar to the lizard. Oren swallowed hard and backed up against the tree trunk. From what he could see of this new creature, it also possessed six limbs and a scaly hide. Huge teeth like swords filled its mouth to the point where it could not close. A long, black tongue lolled to one side, dripping saliva. It certainly looked like a killer; a hungry one at that. Well, as long as it couldn’t climb trees or knock them down, he was safe. Right?

Eyes widening in horror, Oren watched the new creature rear up and, using its middle limbs to hug the tree, begin to jostle it. Loose bark and leaves tumbled downwards as the shocking intensified. Oren clung for dear life to the trunk, his teeth rattling in his head. Alright, as long as he didn’t let go he was safe. Then it stretched its long claws into the branches. Scratching and pricking, it tried to find purchase with his clothes. He tried kicking at them. That only gave the claws a better idea of where to go. He considered jumping to the ground; that wouldn’t do, not with the monster watching his every move. The shaking stopped as suddenly as it’d started but he’d a sinking the beast wasn’t giving up. Then the little pink lizard leapt back over to ‘his’ tree.

It cocked its head. He wondered what it could be thinking. It skittered around, behind him now. Oren followed it warily, pondering still. At first, no movement. Suddenly, it lunged forward and bit his mask.

Yelping, Oren instinctively tried to move backward. His arms pinwheeled, eyes widened in realization, and he dropped. The other was waiting below, mouth open wide to devour whole. A desperate need to escape seared through every nerve, but it was impossible. Oren’s mind went blank as he fell into what would surely be the jaws of death.

Oren awoke in a different place. Heaven? Hell? It didn’t look like it, didn’t feel like it. Dead then? His head hurt. Could you hurt if you were dead? Probably not. If not dead, then where-? There came the memory of falling into the beast’s maw. He pounded his fist against the ground.

“That little rat! What did it do?! What is this? What happened to digestion and death? Where am I?!”

“So loud, quiet down.”

Flinching at the piercing voice, Oren glanced around for the source. It had to be close by. He wasn’t in the mood for more weird happenings.

“You’re sitting on us,” came the voice.

Oren landed awkwardly after rolling away from the sound. He groaned and observed, too late, that one too many rocks hid away in the grass.

“Bet that one hurt. Looks like it would’ve.”

There was only a lump there in the middle of the green field. Oren frowned at it. Out of the lump came ants, hundreds of thee. His face scrunched as he recalled eating ants as a kid. Many, many ants. Fire ants were spicy, that he recalled clearly.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Uh…” Oren reddened slightly at having been caught. His stomach was trying to digest itself.

“You eat us, _any_ of us, we will attack you. Eat grass. Grass is good. We’re getting distracted… you mentioned a rat? What kind of rat?”

“I meant – wait, how are you _talking?_ Do you know where I am? How I got here?”

“Too noisy. Shush. We will explain if you stop running your big, big mouth.”

Oren’s left eye twitched at that. Weren’t these things rude.

“Don’t get mad at us. You thought about eating us. _You're_ the rude one. Now be quiet and we’ll tell you everything we know… if you do something for us in return.”

“Oh great, striking a deal with ants.”

“Ants that have answers to your pressing questions. We just want you to get us some food afterwards. Don’t worry, you won’t be killing anything. Nothing that you’d normally consider killing, anyways.”

Oren glared at the ants. He glared at the horizon. Nothing but grass as far as his eyes could see. Sure, why not? He was already going crazy. Listen to the ants. His end couldn’t be that hard, anyway. So, Oren nodded.

“We’re speaking because we can. It’s just how this place works. And before you ask, let us explain. You are no longer in the place that you called your world. You were in your world, but that changed when the sprites brought you _here_. Why they brought you, we have no idea. Perhaps they want you to do something for them?”

“Sprites? The lizard-looking things?”

They were silent for a time, then, “Yes. One pink and small, another big with orange and black stripes?”

Oren nodded again.

“As we thought. Aren’t we smart? Anyhow, we speak because we can and because you are no longer where you were. As for how you came here, we already answered. The sprites did that. You are in our world. As for specifics, we do not know. We are the wrong people to ask. We are the ants. We do not know what names others assign to these places. We exist, we persist. That is all we know. That is all we need to know. All people of this world have different names for the same place.”

“How can I get back?”

They whispered and muttered. Clearly they were consulting with one another. Things didn’t seem too great when he heard the approximation of an argument. Although, they _were_ ants. Maybe this was how they always conducted discussions.

Finally, “We do not know. Your best bet would be to do that which the sprites have sent you here to do. Do you know what it is?”

“No! All I wanted was get back home! I never should have spoken to that stupid little pink punk!”

“What did you say to her? If you spoke with her the way you speak with us now, it’s no wonder they sent you here – to teach you a lesson!”

Oren nearly drew a blank at that. “Wha-?! No, I thought it couldn’t understand me! I just asked if it- _she_ knew a way out of the woods! I got lost!”

“Well, if that is the case, we don’t see any problem. You are out of the woods! You are no longer lost! You know where are now and you certainly are not in a ‘woods’!”

Sitting back on his haunches, Oren furrowed his brow and stroked his chin. In a messed-up kind of way, it made sense. But he didn’t want some messed-up sense! He needed to get back.

“How do I get home if I don’t know my purpose for being here?”

“We do not know. Such things are lost on the ants.”

“Okay, you know what, just – just stop. I get it, I get it. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. The sooner I do, the sooner I can find my purpose and get back home.”

“That’s the spirit!” the ants cheered. “We want you to go to the bushes and pick their berries. That is all.”

Oren scanned around for any signs of berry bushes. There were none. “Where?”

“Over the hill. It is too far for us. At the end of each trek, we must fight the bushes. We are too tired to defeat them after the long march. We lose more of us than the berries are really worth. But you are so obscenely big! You will have an easier time picking the berries, we think, because you are so big! Go forth, and conquer!”

It was a little offensive, and he did his best not to laugh. They were so serious about berry-picking. His stomach rumbled to remind him that, yes, it was still there and, yes, there was still food to be had. He didn’t even have to ask.

“You can have a couple berries for yourself. But you must bring most of them back to us. Understand?”

“Sure… Just over the hill. Not _that_ far. Can’t be _that_ bad.”

The berry bushes were hilariously small, at least to him. They were ants, of course these things would be big. Oren knelt down next to one bush and plucked a few berries from its branches. So far, so easy. This gave him something to do, an adequate distraction from the questions running constantly through his mind of late. It changed quickly when the bush began to scream.

Oren screamed as well, falling backwards to loud soundly on his rear. “What in the world?!”

It continued to scream until the pitch and volume was nigh unbearable. Not even covering his ears helped. This thing was a nightmare! Pull it out? No, that would kill the poor thing. Trying to get its attention or shout over it failed; it was inconsolable. Oren thought about comfort through touch, but hesitated to do so. He’d just ripped berries off its limbs.

“Holy… If that thing’s alive, what does that make _these?"_ Oren asked aloud, staring down at the ill-gotten fruits.

The bush continued to scream and he sighed, reaching back to pick more of the berries. No way was he stopping now. Oren reasoned that the ants had helped him. This bush certainly had and was not.

It bit him. Or, something that _felt_ like a bite. Oren screeched when the thing did not let go. Instead, it increased in pressure. There was blood running down his hand now.

“Ow ow ow! Let go, let go, you awful, demented shrub!”

Despite attempts to get it to release his hand, the bush did not relent. Oren shifted to hands and knees, peering through the foliage to see where and how it trapped his hand. Several of the bare branches, which had been non-threatening at first, were warped to form a crude outline of jaws. Nothing like he’d ever seen, but definitely felt like something. He was reminded of the time he’d stuck his hand in a bag of sewing needles on a dare.

Oren placed the already-collected berries to one side in order to free up the other hand. Crouching like this was uncomfortable but necessary. He reached into the shrub to begin tugging at the stubborn branches. He was trying to coax them into relenting. It growled at him and more bare limbs extended towards his remaining hand. Oren quickly yanked it well out of reach. It was beginning to look like he’d have to tear it up after all. Only, how would he get anywhere near the roots if the bush was watching him? It didn’t have eyes, true, but he could feel something on him. That’s when it registered – its ‘mouth’ was full and it wasn’t screaming. Maybe now he could speak with it.

“Hey there… bush. Uh, look, I know you’re pretty upset with me since I picked berries off your branches. Bushes grow a lot of berries, though, right? I’ll leave you with a couple limbs full, okay? I won’t pick everything. So, could you let go of me now? Please?”

It didn’t budge an inch.

Oren sighed and frowned deeply at the shrub. “There’s no reason to be difficult. The damage has already been done. These berries can’t be put back… How about this, I won’t pick anymore, I’ll leave, but I need my hand back.”

That, at least, satisfied the bush. It released his hand – bloody and sore. He had no intention of making a repeat, so he pulled far away from it. Despite having deserved it, Oren still felt a bit sour about that. It’d be best to get the fruit back to the ants before the _grass_ decided to give him a shake down.

Roughly three minutes later, Oren arrived back where he’d awoken. Grass and mud had been smashed in an approximation of a teenage boy. He wondered if he’d landed or simply _materialized_. There wasn’t a way to be sure. At his arrival, many ants swarmed out of their anthill. They spoke quickly, thanking him for the berries and wishing him safe travels.

“Which way should I go?”

“…That depends a great deal on where you want to get to.”

“You’ve read Lewis Carroll?

“He’s been here, you know. Part of his ideas come from this place.

“I guess that would make sense… Then, I want to meet someone who can help me find my purpose here.”

“You should go the way the light sinks.”

“Follow the sun? Go west?”

“Yes, yes.”

Any other questions posed went unanswered. Evidently, the ants were content to ignore him and get the berries into their little nest. Only as Oren was walking away did he recall their agreement – he’d been promised a piece of the gains. But he doubted they would appreciate him walking back to take some. Who knew, they could get angry and attack him. The incident with the ferocious flora still fresh in mind, he wasn’t too keen on getting into more trouble.

Thankfully the grassland did not, in fact, stretch on forever as Oren previously believed. After spending a good portion of the day walking, he could see a change of scenery ahead. But the swaying green grass melted into jagged, unwelcoming bramble trees; he was going to miss the sod. There was a clear sky with no clouds in sight, at least. Oren approached the edge of the thicker, rubbing at his gas mask in a habitual, relaxing manner. Although he wondered if the air was as sweet as it seemed, a larger part of his mind insisted he never remove the mask. It was more than a precaution; it was a comfort.

Steeling himself, Oren located a nearly imperceptible break in thorns and pushed in. It was the bush all over again but much, much worse and _all over_. Mud-caked blue jeans and orange hoodie did nothing to stop the wicked brambles from sinking into skin. Oren yelped and jumped out of the trees. He gave the flora a sour look and looked back out, over the hills, the wall of thorns stretching for far too long. Still, going around sounded like a better option.

Absently, Oren wondered if his grandparents would be searching for him at that very moment. They’d go for help from several neighbors before heading to the police. They’d ask his schoolmates and teachers if they knew anything. But nobody would be of much help. Although he talked and asked questions and joked, just like anyone else, he often found himself ignored or chastised. He was always ‘too loud,’ asking ‘too many questions,’ or something of the like. So, maybe there’d be one or two with a vague idea, but not enough.

A patch of yellow against green caught his attention and he pulled himself from the gloomy thoughts. Seeing the dandelions, Oren’s stomach growled. Without a moment of thought he pounced on the little yellow lions. Everything, from flower to root, was edible. Though parts tasted a bit bitter, such as the older, wide leaves, Oren was happy to finally have something. He also picked at the grass and chewed at the ends. It took a while, but he managed to curb his hunger.

With his head cleared of the need for food, Oren noted the sky growing progressively darker. Where would he sleep? Out in the open didn’t sound like the best solution. The brambles were a safer bet. Each limb was thicker than his leg and easily towered over him. Thorns would be a deterrent to predators, but they would also wound _him_. No better ideas presented themselves, however, causing Oren to concede to the unfortunate plan.

Oren crawled through the branches and winced as clothes and skin tore. Finding a pocket mostly clear of thorns, he collapsed gratefully; he was nearly crying as well. It felt good to rest. Still he wondered how, and if, he could ever escape this world.


	2. A New Friend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans are social creatures. They require interaction with others to maintain a healthy life.
> 
> Oren Wiesel finds himself in a stranger's house with even stranger intruders.

Oren awoke with a slight frost covering his body. He sat up quickly, but yelped when something painfully pricked his back. This caused him to glare at the branch while memories of the previous day flooded in. That’s right… Two numb hands rubbed together slowly, seeking to free themselves of the frost. Everything felt cold and sore; a consequence of sleeping directly on the ground.

It felt like an early winter morning. Both the ground and surrounding brambles were layered by thin verglas. Mist had settled into the branches to obscure everything but shapes within a five-foot circle. At least when he glanced upwards, through menacing branches, Oren could see a glimmer of blue sky and sunshine.

Inching his way _slowly_ out of the briar took more work than expected. More work, perhaps, but fewer scratches. After completely emerging from the briar, Oren stood and surveyed his surroundings. Save for the ice, nothing had changed. The horizon stretched onward with few interruptions. Hardly a yellow blade of grass to be seen. No other signs of life, either.

As Oren continued his trek westward, there came a strange feeling. A twinge in his chest made him gasp in pain. Cold, fearful pain filled his veins, turning them to ice. Shudders passed down his spine at a rapid pace. Oren’s mind crowded with thoughts likening the sensation to a grappling hold in a wrestling match. His chest ached and pulled away, towards the briar.

Seeing this, Oren tried digging his feet into loose soil; he didn’t fancy being torn to ribbons. “No, no, no! Not that way!”

Whatever it was didn’t listen and proceeded to tear his body through the branches. Thorns bit his sides and slashed his face. It was a wonder he hadn’t been pierced through, skewered on one of the bigger spikes. Like a shrike, with rodents, bugs, and lizards in its larder. Oren’s mind eventually surrendered unconsciousness and the agony drowned in its inky depths.

Someone’s voice, unfamiliar, bled into the darkness cradling Oren. Their words blurred momentarily while his brain pushed to wakefulness.

“-llo? Hello? … are you awake?”

Oren’s eyes slowly opened and were greeted by blissful black. Whether from the lack of lights or the sun having set, he could barely see anything at all. A single source of light emanated from a small candle near his head. Oren’s brown eyes met flat, emotionless grey at an upwards glance. He started backwards and hissed through clenched teeth. His mind briefly thought back to the brambles; no doubt there were gashes head to toe. But those eyes, however, caused the pain to seep away, replaced by apprehension.

In spite of those cold eyes, the face, with its porcelain skin and soft features, appeared somewhat friendly. They possessed short, raven hair, held back by a pink headband; a small bow was tied into said band. This stranger pulled away and took the taper to light the chamber’s pillar candles. As more lights burst to life, Oren noticed they wore a white and purple dress. Pink lace lined every edge. Their limbs, slender but with a look of hidden strength, moved strangely.

Joints were visible, like those of a doll, and they moved by rolling or flexing. They stood rigidly, as though someone had reached down to set their pose. An odd ticking could be heard. Muffled like it was, he could swear the sounds were emitted by something _inside_ them. Protruding from their back, a golden, ornate key. It turned in time with the ticking. Slowly, like the hands on a clock…

“You’re- you’re not human,” Oren whispered.

A slight pause in movement, followed by a half-turn of the head. “No, I am not.” The voice is definitely feminine.

“Then… what are you? Who are you?”

“Tik Tok Watch, the clockwork doll… I apologize for the rough way the traps brought you here. They can be…” an incline of the head, ‘Tik Tok’ paused to think. Finally, she said, “They can be inconsiderate.”

“Traps?” asked Oren as Tik Tok returned to his side. He noted, with some embarrassment, that his chest was bare, save for the bandages.

Tik Tok didn’t seem to mind. “Yes, traps that I had set to react only to the passing of a human. I had not expected them to drive you through the briar patch, however… Do you have a name?”

“Oren Wiesel. Um, do you know why I’m here? And where ‘here’ is?”

“This is my home, Watch Manor. You are here because of the traps. Previously, you had been wandering on my estate, which stretches from the briar to the edge of the grasslands. I do not know your purpose. That is for you to discover.”

Oren’s eyes lit excitedly and he raised a hand to Tik Tok, as though to greet her. “The ants told me I would find someone that could help me if I traveled west. You’ll help me, right?”

“You must not have walked far enough. I do not have the answer you seek, nor can I help you. My time must be spent in pursuits all my own.”

Ignoring the hand completely, Tik Tok pressed a cloth to Oren’s forehead, making him wince. “Ouch! Can I at least stay the night?”

“Yes. You are welcome to remain as long as you would like. Although, I advise against your leaving.” With that, she lowered the cloth, picked up her water dish, and left him all alone.

“That’s great,” he murmured sarcastically.

A large part of him wanted to explore the room, perhaps a bit of snooping. But the smarter part knew better than to stand, let alone walk. Everything felt numb but it didn’t mean he wasn’t injured; there were a lot of bandages. He’d just have to wait it out.

What seemed an eternity later- only nighttime in reality – Oren decided he wanted up. Sitting brought on a throbbing sensation, not entirely unpleasant. It reminded him of his heartbeat, something that always comforted him. A heartbeat meant life, no matter how dead Oren might feel. As long as there was life, he could work to make things better, improve the situation, no matter the odds. This was a good time to improve the situation.

Oren swung his legs over the bedside one at a time. He felt less pain the more he worked at moving. Different sensations reached him – soft duvet beneath his hands, cool air brushing against his skin, faint roses and saffron. Long drapes decorated with goldwork blocked the windows and any available moonlight. There was thick, familiarly soft carpet beneath his (currently bare) feet. Maroon in color, the same as the drapes. Facing each other on opposite walls, two floor-length mirrors, much taller than they were wide. Within them, it all appeared to stretch on forever. Oren avoided the reflections out of habit – mirrors brought to mind his abnormal need for a mask. Thus, he remained closer to the door cater-corner to the chamber’s main entrance/exit. Curiosity got the better of him, so Oren grabbed the doorknob and opened it.

Old hinges groaned in protest, nearly a shriek in the night. Candlelight inside the room flickered and a few faded entirely. It led to a walk-in closet. An absence of any draft made him wonder just why those flames had died. Glancing for a candle, Oren huffed upon noticing all were mounted to the wall via sconces. Tik Tok appeared to have taken the only available candlestick. His curiosity still spurred him onward, inward. He wanted to see more of this little room.

“After all,” Oren reasoned aloud, “she didn’t say I _wasn't_ allowed to look around.

 _But,_ came the thought, _she didn't say you_ should, _either_. Ignoring this and pushing further inside, Oren thought he felt something drag against his back. Immediately, he backed out.

“Nope, nope, no, definitely not.”

Then, the heavy drapes flung inwards as the windows they’d been hiding slammed open. Oren ducked back inside the closet on instinct but cursed himself the moment he realized what he’d done. Nothing else disturbed the room for a while as Oren peered out from behind the nearly-closed door. One by one the candles were extinguished by something darker than the night itself; claws killed the flickering flames so easily. When all light, save for the moon, had been eliminated, two figures materialized in the middle of the room. Oren was already working on his breathing – it wasn’t an easy thing to silence, not with the noise of a gas mask. He’d have to take it off unless he wanted to be caught.

Just as he reached to remove the mask, fingers curled in the straps, a third intruder smashed through the window. Shattering glass crackled to the floor in a piercing ring which echoed round the once-silent room. Oren cocked his brow as they proceeded to tumble across the floor and smash into the wall opposite.

_Who are these people?_

“What are you doing?!” hissed one stranger as the other unceremoniously hauled Clumsy to their feet.

“Sorry guys. I thought the window was open. That and I’m so excited! We got past the gates this time and still haven’t been caught!” Clumsy’s voice was rough, wolfish, and carried an edge of delight.

“We _will be_ if you don’t shut up!” snarled Hisser.

The one who’d helped Clumsy to their feet brushed dust from a checkered garb before speaking. “Both of you be quiet. The last thing we need if the doll kicking our tails again. Remember last time?”

They all shivered.

Checkers pulled their hood down, revealing long blue hair and a pale face with piercing green eyes. The tallest, Hisser, brushed remaining shards of glass from their robe as if it were nothing, but didn’t reveal themselves. Clumsy… Oren gasped as their robe split around a swelling form. When it stopped, Clumsy’s pointed ears very nearly brushed the ceiling. Violet fur covered them from head to tail, vestigial wings had flared themselves to their full size, and thick claws ripped into the carpeting beneath.

With any luck, these people would be too distracted – or too loud – to notice his presence. Best to remain in the closet where it’s safe. He’d much rather deal with anything in here than the intruders out there.

“That’s not right,” Oren whispered, “Tik Tok helped you. Sure, it was some trap she set that got you cut up to begin with but… what kind of guest lets intruders rob their hostess’ home?”

 _Sane ones. Safe ones._ Oren’s mind argued. _Is there anything I can even do against them?_

He had no inkling of their abilities. If their appearances were anything to go by, a three on one scrap probably wouldn’t end in his favor. Even in normal circumstances, three on one hardly landed in the loner’s favor. Oren wondered if there was a way to alert Tik Tok of the intruders. Would she have heard the window breaking?

“She’s got to have something to protect her house against invaders. After all,” he reasoned, “she set up that trap to catch humans.”

“Fan out,” Checkers ordered, “and be _quiet_.” Hisser and Clumsy nodded, beginning to search the room.

Not good.

Oren stiffened when Clumsy made for the closet. Backpedaling, he went as far as he could. By the time a wall pressed against his back, he could barely see the entrance. Hopefully that meant they couldn’t see him in turn. Clumsy took one step in, and Oren felt his hope sinking. This wasn’t going to work – he needed another strategy, fast.

Turning to face a low bar, meant for hanging clothes, Oren gripped the rod and hoisted himself onto the shelf above. The space was tight, barely enough to fit his body without touching the ceiling, but laying flat helped. Oren contemplated what to do next. There might be a chance to slip out into the room after Clumsy passed him, if he passed him, to further explore the closet. Then what? He didn’t like the thought of a two-on-one fight. Reaching to see what else might lie on the wooden shelf, Oren hissed as his hand grazed something sharp.

Squinting afforded Oren a slightly better view of the object. It appeared to be a knife of modest size. The blade was longer than the handle by about two inches. Oren didn’t quite question why there would be a knife present. Out of everything that’d happened thus far, this seemed ordinary. He shifted to grab it and, in doing so, caused the shelf to creak, betraying him.

“Who’s there?” growled Clumsy.

A black, wet nose twitched, sniffing the air, drawing his gaze upwards. Oren and Clumsy locked eyes. A wicked grin split Clumsy’s features, causing Oren to shrink backwards. Fight or flight more activated. Instinct compelled Oren to seize the knife suddenly – taking hold of the bolster and heel in his hurry. Adrenaline shoved pain and rationality from his mind. He jumped onto Clumsy, causing them to crash bodily against the closet wall. Oren curled his hands into the invader’s thick fur, clinging to the back of the head. Then the weapon dove down, stopping directly before Clumsy’s singular eye. It happened in a matter of seconds.

Blood rushed through Oren’s ears. The adrenaline was keeping him awake, stopping him from shivering. He wasn’t the only one stunned by the bold moves. Clumsy, whom Oren currently held at knifepoint, hadn’t moved or even made a sound. While they stared, Hisser approached the door and asked if everything was alright.

“Tell them nothing’s wrong,” Oren urged.

“Uh, it’s nothing,” Clumsy said, “just thought I saw something.”

Hisser didn’t speak for a time, and Oren held his breath. Then, “Whatever you say, big guy…”

Clumsy stared at Oren and Oren stared right back. Hisser returned to do… whatever it was they’d come to do. Clumsy was the one to break the silence.

“What do you think you’re going to do, human? Kill me?”

“Hey, I’m asking the questions here. What do you three want with Miss Tik Tok?”

“Like I’d ever tell y-” Clumsy flinched as Oren sliced at his right ear. “Ouch! Okay, we’re after a book – a tome! She’s got plenty, won’t even miss it! We already tried being nice! She spit in our faces!”

Oren frowned and, recalling Tik Tok’s face, decided that, though she’d not seemed overly social, she was polite enough. “I don’t believe you.”

“And how long have you known her?”

“… A day, I guess.”

Clumsy snorted. “We’ve known her for _way_ longer. She’s not the calm, kind, reserved person she pretends to be. If you knew the _real_ Watch, you might even be helping us… Do you know what she’s done? The people she’s-”

“I don’t care. I don’t care what she might have done to you or your buddies, it’s no excuse to break into someone’s home. You and your friends need to get out before she gets up here.”

“How’s that? In case you haven’t noticed, the doll hasn’t come up – and I shattered a _window_. She’s probably down in her library. You know, the one that’s three floors down.”

Oren managed to control his panic and instead tightened his grip on the knife. Sinking adrenaline allowed some recognition of pain, but he ignored it. “I can chase you all out myself.”

With that, Oren slashed Clumsy across the forehead, narrowly missing his eye. It was enough to garner a scream. The closet door swept open, out towards the room. Checkers and Hisser gaped in disbelief at the sight. Oren leaned forward, guiding the stumbling monster towards them just as Checkers was reaching into her cloak. Clumsy collided with Checkers, causing a domino effect which might have been funny if not for the situation. Oren rolled from the tumble of legs and swearing to stand on his own. He was wielding the knife as well as anyone with no fighting experience could. Thus, Oren’s face paled as Hisser freed himself and drew a much, much larger blade.

Oren charged in screaming and somehow slid inside Hisser’s guard. Some resistance met his knife, at first. It faded soon enough as his full weight pushed into the attack. Oren paused only when he felt the first tickling of something warm and wet against the hand which brandished the knife. To his horror, Oren realized that he had just stabbed Hisser. It was very much the point, but it was another thing to actually _do_ it. His stunned mind pulled his hand away from the weapon – still embedded – and scratched at his mask.

Hisser stared at the wound and knife embedded there. The shock in his eyes faded into a hateful glare. Oren backed away from him, hands slowly raising in a placating gesture. This was all instinctual now. It wouldn’t help his situation any.

“Accident?” Oren shrugged while smiling awkwardly.

The snarl of rage made clear all was _not_ forgiven. Hisser’s lunging attack narrowly missed Oren’s back as he made for the door. Grabbing the handle with sweat-slicked hands wasn’t easy, but shoving it open certainly was. Oren used the momentum to continue a mad dash down the hall. Every exhale spent itself in terrified screaming – mostly for the sight of Hisser managing to keep up. How was he still running with a blade in his stomach?!

Oren continued to flee, failing to note the repeating paintings. Hisser paused in his pursuit, but Oren still ran. When Hisser seemingly reappeared in front of Oren, he slid to a halt and glanced about. They were no further than a few feet from the guest room they’d started at. Hisser was grinning as he advanced towards Oren, sword raised.

Getting stabbed wasn’t at all what Oren thought it would feel like. But he’d never planned on being stabbed to begin with. There was an impact, like a punch to the gut, then hot, electrical, searing pain as dozens of nerves fired off. A cold agony set in not long after. It was a chill that lasted. The pain easily outweighed that of breaking a bone. Oren fell to his knees in response. His side thudded to the floor as he curled around the sword. He felt his heart fluttering as darker lifeblood – testament to a gut wound – leaked out and puddled on the hardwood. A cold sweat formed and Oren barely registered Checkers and Clumsy join Hisser. His vision swam and everything felt fuzzy. Checkers reached down toward him with an eerie grin on her face.

“Blood is hard to clean.”

The trio of thieves had already backed away when a slim hand took hold of Oren’s left arm and pinched. He didn’t flinch when a syringe came into view and lowered to his body, out of sight. It should come as no surprise that his pain-drugged mind didn’t even feel the intruding needle. However, he _did_ get a sudden jolt from whatever had been introduced to his systems. Gasping, Oren pulled himself upright, only to scream in agony.

“Hush.”

Oren glanced upwards blearily. “Miss Watch?”

Tik Tok abruptly stood and turned her hardened gaze on the intruders. Checkers – evidently their leader – stepped up as if to challenge. Instead of acknowledging her, Tik Tok stooped to pull Oren to his feet. Without warning, she grasped the sword’s handle and yanked the blade free. Oren screamed again and looked at her in accusation.

“What in the fresh heck?! That hurt!”

“Yes, but you are not dead nor dying. There is no reason to be lying about and ruining the varnish.”

“Wha-?! I got stabbed in the gut, of course I’m dying!”

Checkers, Clumsy, and Hisser blinked in apparent surprise. They exchanged looks with one another, then turned confused gazes to Tik Tok. “He’s new, isn’t he?”

“Apparently more so than I first believed,” said Tik Tok.

“Can someone _please_ explain what’s going here?!” Oren screeched.

Tik Tok gestured as she spoke. It gave Oren something else to focus on. “You cannot die by being pierced with a simple blade unless it is poisoned or possesses magical properties. The rules are different here. You cannot bleed to death and will continue to persist even if all of your lifeblood were to turn to dust or drain away. Any other number of methods would work just fine.”

“Why can I not die from being stabbed but I can still feel it?”

Checkers, using Tik Tok’s mild distraction, drove a knife into her back. The resulting hollow ‘thud’ caused Oren to flinch. While he wondered at whether or not she’d felt it, Tik Tok only turned, slowly, to face Checkers. Tik Tok’s gaze had become icy and looming. They were frozen for a spell, but Checker’s attempt to move back broke the stillness. The result ended in seconds; Tik Tok grabbed ahold of Checkers’ hood and yanked her downwards, slamming her to the floor and pinning her. Checkers groaned, but Tik Tok ignored her and put a knee to her chest.

“You hurt because you have nerves. I do not possess a nervous system. Thus, I do not hurt despite being stabbed… Your pain was debilitating, so I administered a vial of modified morphine.”

Tik Tok noticed Clumsy and Hisser attempting to run, so she stepped out in front of them. They exchanged knowing looks and grinned.

“You’re gonna want to let us go, dollface,” Hisser snickered.

Tik Tok tilted her head slightly to the left.

“You idiot, that blade was poisoned! Literally just got done explaining it to the kid!” Clumsy howled.

Reaching up behind, Tik Tok pulled the knife from her back, tearing her dress more in the process, to examine the blade. “So it is. But I am not like you. With no intravenous systems to carry the poison and no organs or flesh to be affected, I am simply incapable of succumbing to such methods.”

A rush of air and the pair joined Checkers on the floor, groaning and holding their heads.

“You have made a miscalculation and, this time, there will be no running. It is time to face the consequences. I gave you two chances already to leave me in peace and live. You took neither. Now, die.”

Oren snapped a look to Tik Tok, eyes furrowed in disbelief and confusion at what he surely _hadn't_ just heard. “What?”

Tik Tok flicked her hand once and a dagger – a main gauche – slid from her sleeve to a waiting grasp. She moved to bury the dagger in Checkers’ chest, but another force slammed into her from one side. Anger flared in Tik Tok’s expression and she whipped around to face the one that had knocked her off of Checkers. Oren, frightened by Tik Tok’s sudden change in demeanor, backed away whilst again raising his hands reflexively.

“I- I don’t think you should kill them. There’s gotta be another way to handle this.”

“What I do is my business, human,” snapped Tik Tok.

“Not if I can help it,” Oren shot back.

“Why defend them? They invaded my privacy with intentions of stealing what is mine. They stabbed you. They stabbed me. This is not the first I’ve had trouble with them, but it will be the last.”

“Yes, it will be the last. If you let them live, we can work things out and they’ll leave afterwards. Seeing you’re so serious about this, I doubt they’ll come back, even if you don’t give them what they came for. It’s just a book, I think.”

This caused Tik Tok to pause. “What?”

“Yeah, a book. They didn’t say what kind, thought. But it’s all they’re after.”

Tik Tok glanced at Checkers, who was sweating and staring wide-eyed. “Is this true?”

“Yes, yes, it is!” she gasped.

Another pause, then, “Why did you not simply ask?”

“I- I thought we did? Grigor, you _did_ ask her for it, didn’t you?” Checkers questioned, craning her head to look at Clumsy.

“Of course I did, Li! She got all up in my face and told me to get out!” Grigor protested as he shifted into his human form.

Tik Tok narrowed her eyes. “You? You asked if you could come in and attempted to force your way past me. There was no mention of a book.”

Everyone stared at Grigor in silence, waiting to hear an explanation. “Oh,” was all he said.

“What do you mean ‘Oh’ you moron?!” Hisser screamed.

“I thought I asked her! Maybe my brain was running faster than my mouth? I don’t know!”

Tik Tok sighed and covered her face with a hand. Oren stared at Grigor in disbelief. Li (Checkers) and Hisser appeared furious and berated Grigor with insults and angry exclamations.

“We got beat to kingdom come and nearly got knifed ‘cuz of a misunderstanding? For real?!”

“Dipstick! What were you thinking?”

“Enough,” Tik Tok snapped. “Which book are hoping to find?”

Li took Oren’s offered hand and – with some help – stood on shaky feet. “ _History of The Plains_ by Altair, Volume 3.”

“Hmm… It sounds familiar. I will escort you to my library. Your friends may remain here. Mr. Wiesel, I trust you are able to watch them while I am away?”

“Sure!”

Tik Tok began to walk away, calling for Li to ‘please keep up’. Grigor introduced himself properly, rubbing his head in embarrassment. The other, Gared, apologized to Oren profusely for stabbing him.

“All in the name of ‘the cause,’ you know?”

“Cause?” Oren asked.

“The reason we need the book. It might just help us figure some things out.”

“Like your purpose, or something?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Gared said with a smile.

Gared and Grigor both proved eager conversationalists as they waited for Tik Tok and Li to return. When they did, Oren felt like they’d been friends a long time.

“We’re leaving,” said Li, “and Oren, Tik Tok, thank you. Sorry for what happened.”

As Oren and Tik Tok stood near the grand doors of the manor, waving the trio off, Oren muttered things to himself. They mostly spoke of his surprise at just how quickly things had de-escalated.

“Thank you for intervening, Oren.”

“Hm?”

“Things are not always as they seem,” Tik Tok said, turning on her heel and beckoning him to follow. “You cannot afford to take things at face value. It was foolish of me to forget that. If it wasn’t for your efforts, I would have killed them… another sin…” She sighed and did not clarify further.

Quietly, as Oren followed Tik Tok through the winding manor, he could not help but marvel at the things he saw. These furnishings were something he’d only seen in photographs. A high ceiling supported by off-white walls and marbled columns. Windows looked non-existent, save for the drapes pulled neatly closed. Numerous candles served as the one, and _only_ , source of light. Said candles mainly hung from the ceiling in great chandeliers with crystals refracting brilliantly all against the walls. They crossed from the front hall, through several other rooms, and into a much wider space. It had all the appearance of a ballroom.

The floor, like everywhere else in the manor, was made from hardwood. Everything was conspicuously free of dust. Oren wondered if Tik Tok spent time cleaning this whole place herself; if she had servants to do the job for her, they were very good at hiding. It was this grand dance hall which further impressed the overall gloom of loneliness which permeated each inch of the manor. Off to one corner, situated just so, stood a harpsichord, unused and dejected. Oren wondered if it could still be played, but hurried along after Tik Tok when she called for him.

They reached a tall, winding staircase not long after the ballroom, at which point Tik Tok glanced over her shoulder to look pointedly at Oren. “I believe I will help you.”

“What?” Oren asked, his eyes going wide in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yes. I will help you to search for your purpose.”

“How come? You said- you know…”

Tik Tok smiled a real smile; her eyes held a spark in them. “You saved me. And besides, new as you are, you would not make it a day on your own. We will prepare, then, we will leave.”

Oren grinned at her and, though she could not see the expression, his eyes said everything. Without speaking, Oren thanked her. Perhaps getting caught up in that trap and being dragged through a briar wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Though his stomach _did_ still hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That takes care of the 2nd chapter. Criticism and comments welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for chapter 1. Feel free to leave a review, constructive criticism is always helpful! Comment and let me know what you think and thank you for reading!


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